How It Ended
by vicm3
Summary: Isabel, Grace and Sam are in college; Cole in NARKOTIKA. New York City is a big place full of possibilities for these four friends. Mostly about Cole and Isabel, but there's also some Sam and Grace. All human, the wolves don't exist.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, this is my first Wolves of Mercy Falls fanfic. I really hope at least some of you will like it. Whatever comments, ideas or opinions you have, leave them on a review or PM me; I'd like to know what you all think and want to read. **

**~Isabel~**

"Shit, sorry!"

"Oh, great. Just great." The cold beer seeped through my shirt, wetting my skin and bra in the process. The latter was even more visible now that the white of the blouse was a strange transparent-dust color. Someone passing by bumped into the guy in front of me, making him nearly fall, spilling _more _–if it was possible- beer on me. Goddamn it, these bottles were endless.

"Geez, can't people watch where they're walking?"

"Look who's talking," I said whilst rolling my eyes at Mr. Beer Spiller. "Now I gotta walk around with a wet shirt while half the boys here stare at my boobs. And only half, because the others are either gay or too busy sucking the life out of someone else." As if to prove my point, the guy's eyes went to my chest, blatantly ogling my black push-up.

"Oh, there you are Isabel. I was just-_Cole?_" Beer Spiller snapped out of his daze when Grace said what appeared to be his name.

"_Grace?_ What are you doing here? Your little town have enough of you?"

"More like _I _got enough of it. You two know each other?" Grace turned towards me, like she was remembering I was there at all.

"Yeah, of course. Every time we meet he spills beer on me; it's a ritual. Right _Cole?_" he coughed, looking uncomfortable. Good.

"Um, yeah. Sorry again." I scoffed.

"Right. Whatever. Grace, you're gonna have to give me your jacket," Grace cringed.

"I, uh, left it at home." Of course she did. Grace _never _went out without at least the shortest of sweaters. The universe just wanted to see me suffer tonight.

"Here, I have another shirt in my car. You can have it," Cole said. I nodded, muttered to Grace I'd be back, and followed him across the bar towards the entrance. We stepped out into the fresh New York night air, filled with the smell of alcohol, nicotine and hormones. A couple was pressed against the wall kissing like there was no tomorrow; another one was dry-humping; a dog wandered about on the opposite side of the street. Cole stopped in front of a black Mustang, which I thought was most probably stolen until he unlocked it and, as promised, fished a t-shirt out of it. He turned around, stretched hand fisting the fabric, and looked at me. The soft yellow light coming from the streetlamp dimly illuminated only the side of his face that was exposed to it. He had a square jaw, brown hair, light skin and deep green eyes that shone in the dark.

I recognized that face.

"Are you going to ta-?"

"You're Cole. Cole St. Clair. From that hideous rock band."

"Well, I wouldn't say 'hideous' but yeah, that's me babes." _Un_believable. I just got beer poured all over me by a famous, cocky rock star, who was now willing to give me his spare shirt.

"Hm. Don't call me babes." I grabbed the t-shirt from him, opened the door and jumped in the car.

**~Cole~**

Fuck she looked hot in my clothes.

Isabel emerged from the car –only God knew why she had changed in there instead of using the perfectly good bathroom from the bar- wearing my dark grey Ramones tee with the sleeves rolled up to make them shorter.

"Happy unbirthday, rock star. You can keep it." Something damp hit my face, and I soon realized it was Isabel's shirt. She crossed the sidewalk, leaned against the wall, and pulled a pack of Marlboro's from the back pocket of her jeans. I never would have thought she smoked. She looks too damn fancy. Isabel signaled to me if I wanted one, and I gratefully accepted the cigarette.

"Crap I forgot my lighter," she murmured. I wordlessly took mine and lighted her, then me. We smoked in silence, with her occasionally glancing at me and me shamelessly staring at her. "How do you know Grace?" Isabel stomped on the butt of her cigar and pulled out another one, which I again lit up.

"We went to camp together when we were ten. How do _you _know Grace?"

"I shared the little town with her. We moved here together. _Used _to live together."

"Why don't you anymore?"

"She met Sam. He's her everything, as she puts it. After a while, Grace left me to live with him. She still apologizes sometimes." The smoke that left her lips looked stark white in comparison to the dark of the night, and her full lips looked inviting, especially every time they parted to exhale. Out of nowhere, the urge to spend more time with her filled me, and because I had the feeling that wouldn't be possible if we stayed where we were, the next thing I said was:

"Hey." She turned to look at me. "Wanna get out of here?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Where would we be going?"

"Where do you wanna go?" Isabel made a humming noise whilst thinking.

"Have you ever gone bowling at midnight?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there! I've spent the whole weekend at my gran's without anything to do so here is another chapter, longer this time -1300 words for you. Pleeeease read the end notes. Enjoy!**

**~Isabel~**

I don't know why I did it.

I was sat in the passenger seat of Cole St. Clair's Mustang, on our way to Lucky Strike on 42nd street to play expensive bowling at sixteen past twelve. I could say I accepted to do something with him because he's famous, or because I like his car –which I don't–, or because I didn't want to ride on a cab back home alone, but truth was, I didn't care about any of those things. I noticed an iPod plugged to the center console and took it. From the corner of my eye, I saw Cole glance at me from the corner of _his _eye.

_Arctic Monkeys, bla, bla, Blink-182, bla, David Bowie, no, no, no, Foo Fighters, Foster the People, don't want to listen to that, Kings of Leon, bla, bla bla, The Black Keys- _bingo!

"Good choice," Cole said just as the song started. I turned up the volume, opened my mouth to sing along and- _Mother of Christ. _Dan Auerbach's voice was overshadowed by Cole's deep, grave and insanely sexy one. It was soft but somehow rusty at the same time. _That, _singing the line _Baby I'm howlin' for you_, had to be a gift to womankind from the gods. Too soon the song turned into Everlasting Light, which he also sang, which made me stare even more, which he noticed.

"What?" Cole said.

"Nothing." He scoffed at me.

"Like what you're listening?"

"The Black Keys? Yeah, they're great," this time he laughed. Hard.

"Sweetie, it's okay. You're not the first girl to be hot for my voice." _I _scoffed.

"You wish. And stop smirking at me, St. Clair," Cole, like the idiot he was, laughed again, then smirked harder. And because he _had _to prove his point and annoy me, he kept on singing. That was, until I changed the music to Carla Bruni.

"Sing me that, pop boy." To my amazement and his credit, he sang. And good. It seemed a bit ironic to me that boys like Cole –cocky, cold-hearted–, could speak such a fine, romantic language and still sound as sweet as the words. Cole took notice of the look on my face and quickly explained.

"My family is quite… aristocratic, even though we don't quite belong. My parents, a mad scientist and an art dealer, made me learn different languages, among other things."

"Whatever. Why do you have Carla Bruni on your iPod, anyway?"

"Again, my parents. And she sings well."

"Your parents made you listen to France's ex-president's wife?"

"Um, no. They just made me listen to good music." Lucky Strike was now on plain sight, 42nd to our right, but Cole drove right by it.

"You missed the turn."

"I know."

"Why don't you drive back then?"

"Oh, we're not going there anymore." _What?_

"Do you mind telling me where we _are _going?" and the little smirk was back.

"Dancing."

"We're going to a _club?_ When did you plan on telling me this?" Jeez. We were just on a bar, might as well dance there. It's not like someone would bother enough to come up to us and say, 'hey, you can't dance here.' Besides, my feet were killing me from having walked around the city all day, and I simply wanted to get home and have a nice, hot bath. Bowling had been a good idea since it was only fun with lots of people and we were two, which meant we would get bored soon enough.

Guess Cole didn't like the idea as much.

"Now, actually. Hey, Isabel?"

"What?"

"We're going dancing."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, St. Clair."

"You use my last name like it's some kind of insult or misfortune."

"Ever thought maybe it is?"

"Many times. I still think it's more of a _me _problem, not so much the name." The statement shocked me a little considering that, even though it was about him, it wasn't meant to be self-centered and cold. I didn't know what to answer, so I stayed silent and let Radiohead's –Cole had swapped Carla Bruni- music fill the void.

**~Cole~**

Her body pressed against mine, hips swaying as one to the beating bass of the music. My hands were around her waist, pressing us closer. I could feel every movement, every curve of her as she pushed against me because somehow, it wasn't enough. The rest of the drive had been quiet; Tom York's voice the only one speaking. When we got here, Isabel took my hand and led me trough the club to the main dance floor, immediately grinding against me like most of the other people were doing.

It had been a vey long time since I saw a girl dance as sexy and sort of classy at the same time as Isabel, and considering she a pair of combat boots, jeans and a t-shirt a few sizes too big, she suddenly looked even more tantalizing. Warm breath washed over my ear and snapped me from my daze.

"I'm gonna go get a drink. Want something?" Isabel said.

"Vodka and orange, strong; please," I pulled out a few twenties –knowing this club is expensive– and watched her make her way over to the bar. Since it was so dark and crowded, I didn't even bother trying to hide my face like I normally would. And that was the deal with the clubs. I liked partying, hell yeah. Alcohol, girls, drugs, loud music, all that; they were great, but the main reason I did it was because I could have a good time without having to worry every minute about who might see me. It was as simple as getting there late, and then getting lost in the sea of bodies.

Isabel returned short after, looking like she would kick the living shit out of anyone that dared to spill our drinks –I was surprised I didn't get the same treatment–, and handed me half of my drink.

"Last time I was here, they filled the glasses to the top. What happened?" I had to shout in other to even hear myself, but it seemed it still wasn't enough, so I leaned over, put my mouth right next to her ear, and repeated the sentence. She squirmed. I smirked.

"I had to try it to see if it was poisoned. We can't have a famous pop star die today, can we?" I simply laughed, not caring she had done that, and sipped. Isabel smiled, a full-on, actual smile. Her white teeth shined under the colorful strobe lights and her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. The beam faded slowly though when mine did, disappearing as I leaned. Her eyes glanced down to my lips and vice versa. I stopped just before our noses touched, waiting for permission of some kind even though I never waited for anything when it came to girls. They were the ones that had to stand in line for me.

Isabel's right hand –the one that wasn't holding her drink– snaked around to the back of my neck, where it spread and pushed down at the same time she stood on her tip-toes and, suddenly, we were alone. Alone in a dark room, void of sounds and only filled with the crashing of our lips. Hers were soft, sweet and innocent, while mine were rough and sure from the years of being that way. My tongue sneaked out, tracing her bottom lip. Isabel's mouth opened, but I didn't take advantage, just outlining the soft flesh before kissing her again. Too soon though, the longing and needing that had been building in my stomach became unbearable, so I gently bit her bottom lip, stretching it slightly before letting it go and saying,

"My house is close."

**Sooo, do they sleep or not? I'm still unsure, help me out here. I would also like to know what you imagine each character to look like. I've been thinking maybe a younger Keira Knightley as Isabel, Zac Efron with short hair as Cole or perhaps with long hair as Sam, and Grace I have no idea. Review, tell me what you think of the chapter and then help me. I beg you! X.**


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